Chapter Three 3 страница. The sound of the phone ringing jarred Regan right out of her zone

The sound of the phone ringing jarred Regan right out of her zone. She whipped her head around in a frantic effort to locate her cordless phone — over there, on the table —then turned back to watch in horror as her digital snowboarder smashed face-first into the snow. Shit! There was no time to mourn her high score. Regan sprang from her chair and raced over to half-vault, half-stumble over her couch. Her mind was racing as she grabbed the phone. It could be her. She turned on the phone and brought it to her ear with such force that she nearly clocked herself in the head. "Hello?" she gasped.

For a moment she heard only silence, then, "Regan?"

It was instantaneous —a Pavlovian response to the sound of a beautiful woman's voice. Regan's heart began thudding madly in her chest. Her throat tightened, trapping her voice before it could reach her lips. Her cheeks were hot and flushed. It's her! For Christ's sake, you moron, say something! Site actually called you. Let her know it wasn't a mistake.

"Yes, this is. It's me... I mean, I'm Regan," she stuttered.

"Hey, this is Mel... um, from the straight bar. Did I interrupt you or something?"

"Oh, no!" Regan shouted, and then clapped her hand over her mouth. Wincing, she explained, "I, uh... I was in the middle of a video game and it took me a minute to find the phone." She blushed at her unthinking honesty.

Mel's chuckle helped to alleviate some of her distress at the admission. "Cool. And you can stop blushing, okay? I still think you're adorable."

Regan disobeyed by turning even redder. The throaty voice on the other end of the phone made her legs weak. She sat down on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning back against the couch. "And what makes you think I'm blushing?" she asked.

"They don't call 'em 'powers of deduction' for nothing," Mel replied. "I happen to know that you always blush when you talk about something you think is nerdy."

This insight did nothing to slow her pulse. "I find that most adult women aren't overly impressed by my geeky toys."

"I'm not most adult women. I suspect you aren't, either."

Regan laughed. "No, I'm not."

"For the record, I like video games." Mel's voice was friendly, conversational, and it set Regan at ease. "I'm sure you could kick my sorry ass at almost anything, but I have been known to play."

"Almost anything?" Regan grinned at the patterned wallpaper in front of her, and then closed her eyes, trying to picture what Mel would look like with a phone in her hand.

"Nobody beats me at Tetris," Mel said.

Regan's grin widened until her cheeks hurt. "Oh, that sounds like a challenge."

"Consider the gauntlet thrown."

Regan laughed. Now that her nervousness had eased a bit, her body began to relax. She bit her lip and made a confession. "I wasn't sure you were going to call."

There was dead silence for a moment. "I wasn't sure I would, either." Brutal honesty.

"Why did you?"

"I..." Mel sounded off-balance at the question. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Regan's heart thumped hard, erratic. She brought a hand up to rest on her breast, a sense of euphoria. She thought about me? "I'm so glad I'm not the only one," she breathed, and sensed that her words hit Mel just as hard.

Mel's voice changed when she spoke next. "I want to be honest. I don't have much experience with this."

"Experience with what?"

"Calling women. Dating. Whatever this is."

"What do you want it to be?" This absolutely gorgeous woman sounds just as nervous as I do. Does she realize how much that helps?

A pause. "I want it to be dinner tomorrow night, to start."

Regan beamed at the wall in front of her and wiggled her toes with the excitement. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I would. I'm really glad you called."

She heard Mel's smile in her voice. "I'm glad, too." She cleared her throat. "Well, unless you want to ride my bike again, we'd better meet someplace or you can come pick me up."

Regan shuddered at the memory of that motorcycle ride, and what had happened after it. "How about I pick you up? I'm hell with directions, so I'll never make it to an agreed-upon meeting place."

Mel snorted. "Then why do you think you can make it to my place?"

"Incentive," Regan replied. "Now give me the directions."

Mel's answering laugh reminded her of just how attractive the incentive was.

Chapter Three

MEL SMILED ACROSS the table, chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her elbow was planted on the table, and her eyes were stuck on Regan's red hair and pale skin. Beguiling. Mel had never wanted to use the word before, but that's exactly what she was.

Regan was wearing an army green ringer T-shirt that proclaimed There's No Place Like 127.0.0.1 — presumably some kind of computer geek thing —and low-rise cargo pants. Her hands were clasped in front of her on the table, and her foot tapped audibly on the tile floor. She was chattering away, obviously nervous but trying hard not to show it.

Mel looked around at the intimate surroundings of the restaurant Regan had chosen; a dozen crowded tables lit with candles surrounded them, and brightly colored paintings adorned the walls. "Um...this is a nice place," she offered when Regan paused to catch her breath.

"I have an unhealthy addiction to their breadsticks," Regan said.

"Ah, so you had an ulterior motive in bringing me here? And here I thought you were catering to my love of Italian food."

"Let's just say I figured this could be a win-win situation."

"I'm sorry it took me so long to call," Mel said without thinking. She dropped her eyes to the table, feeling vulnerable for having said it. "I swear I must have taken your card out of my wallet a hundred times, looked at it, then put it away again."

"You were nervous?" Regan sounded incredulous.

Mel gave a shaky laugh. "I'm still nervous." In fact, this was scaring the hell out of her.

Regan reached across the table to take Mel's hand. "As a good friend of mine once said, please don't be nervous."

Mel cocked her head at Regan, staring into tender green eyes. "Friend, huh?"

"I'd like to be," Regan said in a soft voice.

"Ladies." A sandy-haired young man appeared at their table, pen poised over a pad of paper. "Are you ready to order?"

Mel was glad for the interruption and let Regan order first. Why was this so hard? She'd spent all week thinking about Regan. The shy redhead was the only thing that felt good to Mel right now, and this was the first time anyone had ever affected her like this. That had to mean something, right?

She scanned her menu, at a loss to decide what qualified as good date food. Spaghetti sounded messy. Scampi would give her killer breath. "I'll have the lasagna."

"Good choice," Regan commented after the waiter walked away. "My second favorite meal here."

Mel took a sip of her water, studying her date over the rim of the glass. Maybe next time she wouldn't be so nervous. She clasped her hands together on the table, slightly freaked out when she realized that she was already thinking about "next time."

"I'm a lot less nervous in bars," she said.

Regan laughed. "I noticed. I don't understand it, though. The more I get to know a person, the easier it is for me. Being surrounded by strangers kind of undoes me."

"I guess I feel more comfortable around strangers."

"But everyone needs friends."

Regan's quiet certainty brought Hansen's words to mind: I think everyone needs someone to remind them of the good things. Mel wondered why what seemed patently obvious to Hansen and Regan was so elusive to her.

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it." She looked past Regan to the profile of a man sitting near them, careful to avoid eye contact with her date. Their conversation was unnerving her, as was her growing compulsion to be totally honest.

"Oh, come on," Regan said softly. "I can't believe that someone like you doesn't have friends."

Mel shifted her gaze to the hand clasping hers. "I don't. My choice, really." God, she sucked at this.

Regan stared at her a moment, then withdrew her hand from Mel's to gesture at the space between them. "So is this...okay?"

"This is very okay." Needing something to do with her hands, Mel unrolled her napkin, freeing the cutlery within. "I was telling the truth when I said I liked you the other night," she said. "I had a really good time."

Regan beamed at her. "I had a good time, too."

Mel couldn't help but return Regan's happy expression. She wasn't sure she had ever seen such honest emotion from a person before. Regan, once at ease, was so unpretentious and genuine that Mel could only sit in awe of her. She was beautiful.

"So." Regan rested her arms on the table. "Now that you have me here, my friend, what will you do with me?" She gave Mel a mischievous smile.

Mel could see her wanting to come out of her shell, struggling to overcome her reserved nature, and found she wanted to do the same thing. She felt desperate to connect with her new friend, to stop being so guarded. "I don't know," she answered, more serious than Regan probably expected. "But I look forward to figuring it out."

The waiter returned with their salads and Mel picked up her fork, thankful for an excuse not to talk for a few minutes.

Regan had other ideas. "So what about those women who took you to that bar? They're not your friends?"

Still on the friend thing. Mel finished chewing a crouton, then said, "Jane —the blonde, about my height —she's the closest thing I have to a friend. We probably talk on the phone once every few months. That was the first time I've been out with her in about a year, though. The others are her friends." She gave Regan a playful grin. "I didn't pay a lot of attention to them. I don't think they knew quite what to make of me."

"A seducer of ostensibly straight women?" Regan suggested.

Mel snickered. "Oh, please. Nobody ever thought you were straight."

Regan wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, sighing in exaggerated relief. "Thank God."

They concentrated on their salads by silent mutual agreement, occasionally looking up to smile at one another over the lit candle at the center of their table. Mel couldn't believe how much like a real date this seemed, and how little she suddenly cared about that fact. It felt good. So far. After a couple minutes their waiter turned up with a basket of steaming breadsticks.

"Ah. Your fix," Mel teased.

"Oh, happiness." Regan retrieved a hot breadstick from the basket the instant it was deposited on the table.

Mel watched with amusement as she took a healthy bite, closing her eyes and moaning contentedly as she chewed. There was nothing like the sight of pleasure on a woman's face.

With a wholly satisfied expression, Regan gasped, "God, these are good."

Mel picked up a breadstick, raising an eyebrow at Regan before taking an experimental bite. She chewed a moment and then sighed. "You're right. These should be illegal. You have to promise not to bring me to this joint too often or you'll be rolling me out of here."

She tensed slightly as she realized the implication of her statement. Already she could see a future that included Regan. It was time to stop getting ahead of herself.

"I promise. Besides, I have plenty of other vices I can introduce you to."

"I'm counting on it."

Regan chewed for another moment before giving Mel a curious look. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you like video games."

Mel felt startling heat rise in her cheeks. "And I have to admit that my motives haven't always been pure. My favorite bar in college had a Tetris arcade game and I found that being the constant high score had a strange aphrodisiacal effect on women."

"Man, you'll have to show me where that bar is."

"Nah. I'm not going to toss a total babe with your gaming prowess to those wolves. I'd rather keep you to myself."

Regan's mouth curled. "Total babe, huh?"

"Totally." Mel felt her confidence returning as they ventured away from serious topics into the light banter that had so intrigued her their first night together.

"So, where did you go to college?" Regan asked in an obvious attempt to divert attention away from herself.

"Michigan State. On a Softball scholarship."

"Oh, no, not a Spartan!" Regan bemoaned. "We're rivals!"

"U of M, huh? I won't hold it against you."

Regan sputtered. "So says the couch burner?"

Mel scowled playfully. "Stupid rioting kids. We'll never live that down."

Before Regan could come back with another zinger, their waiter bustled up to the table with their order. Regan met Mel's stare from across the table, and they held the eye contact as the young man arranged their dishes.

Regan had ordered spaghetti. As soon as the waiter departed, she poked at it with her fork and asked, "So, what did you study?"

"Besides women, you mean?"

Regan leaned back and assessed Mel with an amused expression. "Yes, besides women."

"Criminal justice." Mel didn't mean to be short, but talking about her life was such an unfamiliar thing that it left her struggling for words. It was exciting to be here, though. Mel felt the same energy thrumming through her body that she got when she drove up north to find deserted country roads where she could open her throttle. Did Regan feel this connection, too? Was it making her heart feel like it could pound out of her chest?

"I guess that makes sense," Regan said. "Did you grow up in Michigan?"

"No. I was born in Oklahoma. I came to Michigan to go to school and then joined the department in Detroit when I graduated."

"Did you know people out here or something?"

"Not really. I'd just met Jane in college, but like I said, we've never been extremely close."

"What about your family?"

"What about them?" It always came back to family. Mel could feel her defenses stirring, and tried to remain calm and open. Regan was just being polite. People talked about their families in social settings, didn't they?

Regan seemed unaware of Mel's discomfort and continued her innocent questioning. "I mean, are you close to them? Were they upset when you moved out here?"

"Not really." Mel kept going despite the fact that she wanted to run and hide at the topic. Haven't I let it ruin too much already? I refuse to ruin this thing with Regan. "I have a brother, Michael. We're not very close. My dad and I...well, we don't get along. And my mom died when I was eight."

"Oh." Regan pushed some noodles around with her fork. "I'm sorry."

Mel held her face rigid. "It was a long time ago." To lighten the mood, she said, "So what did you study at Michigan? Computer science?"

"Ironically, women's studies." Regan's tone became self-mocking. "I say ironically because, unlike you, I didn't actually spend a lot of time studying women in college."

"No?" Mel flirted. "I'll bet they were studying you."

"Is everyone this charming where you come from?"

Mel winked. "I guess you just hit the jackpot when you found me." She took a sip of water and said, "You majored in women's studies and became a software developer. How does that happen?"

Regan rolled her eyes. "The major was a rebellion against my parents, and the career is a concession to the real world."

"What did your parents want you to do?" Mel asked, trying to imagine what it must be like to defy parental expectations.

"Something lucrative, I guess. Something respectable. I don't think they cared to think about my life deeply enough to get specific in their expectations."

Whoa. Mel flinched at the barely veiled bitterness. I guess I'm not the only one with an uneasy relationship with her upbringing.

"I don't see them very often," Regan continued. "I mean, they're good parents and everything. I always had everything I wanted —well, except tuition after I declared my major. They're just really distant. They don't really know me, and I don't think they want to." Her eyes grew sad and Mel extended her hand to enclose one of Regan's.

I can't stop touching her, she realized, staring down at their hands, her own olive complexion a sharp contrast against her date's pale pink skin. "It's their loss," she said, and her voice was rough. "You're an amazing woman."

Regan's cheeks turned an immediate flaming red, and she rocked in her chair for a moment before leaning forward and planting an impulsive kiss on Mel's temple. "Thanks," she breathed.

Mel shivered at the contact and struggled to maintain some semblance of the stoicism that she normally wore like a mask. More than three years on the force, seeing the things she'd seen, and what finally undoes her is a 5'3" self-professed computer nerd? Disbelieving, she stroked the inside of Regan's wrist. Everything about the evening felt revelatory.

"So your parents actually stopped paying for your school over women's studies?"

"Sort of. My dad threatened to withdraw my tuition to try and make me see his point of view. That pissed me off, so I called him on it. I told him that he could have his tuition, and I'd have my women's studies degree."

"Wow." Mel felt her respect for Regan grow by leaps and bounds. "Just like that?"

Regan leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. All lingering shyness seemed to have disappeared. "It wasn't as ballsy as it sounds. Remember I told you that I wrote shareware programs to pay my way through school?"

"Yeah."

"I'd actually just completed a pet project of mine a couple of months before my little 'disagreement' with my parents. I'd released it as shareware for fun, you know, to see if anyone would like it. And by the time my father threatened me, I'd already made a couple thousand dollars." Regan shrugged her shoulders, the picture of nonchalance. "Hell, I had just started receiving payments and they were coming in fast. I figured if I was careful and saved what I made, I could at least pay for the rest of the school year."

"I bet your dad was surprised."

"Oh, my God, you don't even know," Regan laughed. "Once he realized that I was challenging him, he couldn't back down. I couldn't, either. I'm pretty sure he thought I'd come running back, begging for help after a few months. I don't think he's ever quite gotten over the fact that I didn't need them anymore, that they didn't have a say anymore."

"God." Mel picked up another breadstick and took a careful bite. "That's awesome —writing software that earned you a couple thousand dollars is a big deal."

"Seventy-five thousand dollars," Regan mumbled.

Mel nearly choked on her breadstick. "What? Holy shit! Seventy-five thousand?" Damn, that was impressive.

"It was pretty successful. I even released a couple of later versions."

Could she be cooler? "What the hell did you write?"

"Urn." Regan's cheeks blazed impossibly hotter.

Mel couldn't stop a slow grin. "Spill it," she commanded in her very best interrogatory voice.

"Well, this was back before all the peer-to-peer stuff they have today and, well, you know, the Internet wasn't nearly as easy to navigate, so there was a certain demand..." She grinned as Mel poked her in the arm. "I called it PornSpider. It was basically a big old porn search engine."

Mel exploded into loud laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth as a few diners craned around to stare.

"So anyway," Regan gave Mel a pointed look, "it was just a little application that let you search the Internet for pictures and videos based on keywords and stuff. Had a built-in media player to display what it found...it was pretty popular for the lazy porn connoisseur. Not bad for its day, if I do say so myself."

"My, my, dear Regan, and I thought you said you weren't studying women in college."

"Not real ones."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, one," Regan admitted. "I had my first and only relationship during my junior year. Sarah. We lasted about a year, parted as friends."

"And since then?"

"Not much to talk about. No relationships, a couple of casual things. Honestly, despite my porn industry ties, I'm pretty boring."

"I doubt that," Mel drawled. "The boring part, I mean."

"And what about you?" Regan asked, her voice becoming bolder as she challenged the other woman. "How many women have you seduced with that Oklahoma charm?"

Mel could feel her face flood with heat. "Um..."

"That bad?"

Mel resisted the urge to curl a finger beneath the collar of her shirt and pull it away from her overheated neck. "I've never really lacked for company. It's just that I haven't had a lot of experience seeing women more than once." She told herself to stop acting guilty. There was no reason to feel bad about her past. It wasn't so long ago that she had been proud of it. "That sounds terrible, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't sound terrible. It sounds honest." Regan was holding her napkin in one hand, tearing at the corner with the other. "I'm not sure why I'm any different, but I'm glad you thought I was."

"You are different." Mel met her earnest stare. What was it about this woman that weakened her defenses?

"So, how intimidated should I be?" Green eyes flashed with anxiety despite the playful tone. "Got a rough estimate?"

"Regan, there's no reason for you to ever be intimidated by me. I may have slept with a lot of women, but there are plenty of things I haven't experienced." She paused, looking down. "Honestly, I should be intimidated by you."

"By me?" Regan looked startled.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't actually even know how to be in a relationship."

Regan smiled, an expression that started at her gorgeous mouth and traveled all the way to her eyes, which sparkled with warmth. "I'll teach you if you'll teach me."

Mel felt familiar panic start to rise at the words, an instinctive reaction from years of shutting herself off from everyone and everything around her.

Regan frowned a little and reached over to stroke her arm. "You seem bothered. What is it?"

"I don't know." Mel blushed at how transparent she was. "Doing something wrong. Disappointing people. Getting hurt."

"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better." Regan propped her chin on a fist. "I don't know what will happen, honestly. All I know is that you've yet to do anything wrong, and I can't imagine anything about you that would disappoint me. And I promise to do my best never to hurt you."

Mel's vision blurred. She cursed under her breath, wiping her traitorous eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry." She barked out a sharp laugh. "You must think I'm insane."

"Not at all," Regan said. "I think you're wonderful."

"And you impress the hell out of me."

Regan looked as if she wasn't sure what to say for a moment, seeming both pleased and embarrassed. Then her face brightened. "Wail a second... don't think you're getting out of it that easy!"

"Out of what?"

"You never answered me when I asked how many women there've been. And now I'm dying of curiosity."

Mel hesitated. "Urn, you first."

Regan produced her own total without hesitation. "Three. Now you."

Jesus, Mel thought. Three? "I don't know. Sixty. Seventy." Quickly, she added, "I've always been safe."

"Holy moly!"

"Holy moly? Did you just say holy moly?"

Regan arched an eyebrow. "Yes, holy moly! You're a veritable strumpet!"

A wide grin accompanied the gently teasing words and Mel relaxed as she realized that Regan didn't seem put-off. In fact, she looked downright amused. "Yeah, well, strumpethood isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"It's a tough gig, huh? I'll try and remember that the next time I'm alone on a Saturday night."

"I'm serious! It gets boring after, oh, number fifty or sixty."

"My poor baby," Regan cooed. "I'll have to be sure to make life interesting for you again, won't I?"

Coquettish, Mel thought. I've never had the urge to use that word, either, but she definitely sounds... coquettish. "I'd say you're off to a really good start."

REGAN TOOK HER second wrong turn of the night just three blocks from Mel's apartment. She cast a surreptitious gaze at her passenger, who was studying every CD she had in the truck. God, I hope she doesn't notice that I keep getting us, quote unquote, lost. What a sad little ploy to prolong our date.

"What the hell is this?" Mel held a CD case with two fingers as if it might contaminate her.

Regan tilted her head to read the title. "The Spice Girls! It's a classic!" She shot Mel a haughty look. "Put it down if you can't appreciate it."

"Classic, huh?" Mel snorted, tucking the CD back into its spot. "Let's just put this away and I'll pretend I never saw it."

"Good idea," Regan came to the end of the unfamiliar street, and braked at a stop sign, flipping on her turn signal. I can't take another wrong turn, can I? I mean, that would be too obvious, wouldn't it? She could feel Mel staring at her.

"I still think you're adorable," Mel said. "And so is the whole driving us around in circles thing."

God, kill me now. Regan cringed.

"I don't want this evening to end, either." Mel's voice was low and so quiet that Regan cursed the pounding in her ears that overwhelmed it.

Maybe it was the night sky; maybe it was the gentle fragrance on the breeze that blew through Mel's rolled-down passenger window; or maybe it was just the way Mel made her feel like the kind of person she never thought she would be. Whatever it was, something infused Regan with a powerful wave of unexpected courage.

Okay, now or never, she thought, and asked, "Does it have to end?"

Her heart dropped into her stomach when this was met only by uneasy silence. Regan turned her truck on to a dark side street. Mel's street. Why isn't she answering me? She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her face not to betray her humiliation. She doesn't feel the same way.

"I want to say that it doesn't." Mel sounded uncomfortable. "But I think it does."

"I understand." Her voice was steady and calm, an absolute lie when she shook inside. "You don't have to explain."

She steered her truck into the driveway of Mel's apartment complex and parked in an empty spot next to Mel's motorcycle. She couldn't meet Mel's eyes. I thought she was feeling the same way.

"Regan, look at me."

Mel's gaze was full of warmth, affection, and, unless Regan was mistaken, powerful lust. "You know that I'm attracted to you, right?" She tilted Regan's face toward her, two fingers under her chin. "I'm also interested in you. I want this — whatever this is —I want it to mean something."

Regan held her breath when she saw the genuine feeling that shone from Mel. "So do I," she whispered.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30